Not So Distant
by Emmarlene
Summary: After years of watching the Games, Foxface is forced to compete in them. The 74th Hunger Games from Foxface's P.O.V.
1. Reaping

Chapter 1: The Reaping

The morning of the Reaping dawned bright and clear. I rolled over in my bed, trying in vain to get a bit more sleep. I never slept much before the Reaping. No one did, I guess.

I could hear my parents talking softly downstairs, for once not demanding that I get up. Our Reaping was held at ten o'clock, enough time for getting some extra sleep, but not enough to do anything productive. Not enough time to do anything but worry.

At last, when the sunlight streaming through my window became too bright to ignore, I left the warmth of my bed and stumbled over to my closet. Reaching into it, I pulled out my only dress. It was a bright red, nearly the same shade as my hair, with small yellow buttons in the shape of suns down the front. It had been gift from my mother when I was twelve, and I had worn it on every Reaping day.

My parents were waiting for me downstairs, in the tiny kitchen. My father had cooked breakfast for the three of us, a fantastic meal of eggs and bread and cheese, but I could hardly eat. Neither of my parents ate much either. They looked stressed – they _were_ stressed, I corrected myself – and who wouldn't be? But the odds were in my favour, as much as they would ever be. No tesserae for me; my parents earned enough between them to keep us fed, most of the time. My name was in only four times this year, less than most of the others in my school.

Breakfast passed in silence. I went back upstairs, trying to delay the inevitable parting as much as I could. I brushed my long red hair until it fell sleekly over my shoulders, even though I knew it would get mussed up in the wind before long. Finally, I went back downstairs.

My mother hugged me, then stepped back to examine me before straightening my dress. "You look beautiful, dear."

"We'll meet you outside the square afterwards," My father's voice was firm, commanding. As if saying the words would keep me safe, keep me from the Capitol.

My mother glanced nervously at the clock. "We'll be in Square Three, watching."

I nodded, even though I knew that already. All the possible Tributes in District 5 would be in Square One, the central square, for the Reaping, while their families and the rest of the district were assigned to various other squares to watch the ceremony.

I paused before I left, knowing that I should say something to them. But what do you say when you don't know if tonight will see you marked for death or free, at least for another year?

Not something emotional. I'm not good at that. "I – I'll see you after the Reaping, then."

My mother hugged me again and kissed me gently on the cheek. "We love you, dear."

Their smiles - still worried - are what I thought of as I headed through the narrow streets of District 5.

District 5 is essentially one big city. Power is what we produce - for the Capitol, ourselves, and other Districts. Our houses are small, squashed together apartments, their roofs covered with solar panels. The streets are level, uniform, set out in a grid. Below the streets lie tunnels, filled with cables.

Identical streets, identical houses. Easy to get lost in.

Not for me. As I walked towards Square One, my eyes flickered over the buildings. I made a game of it, spotting differences, picking up minor changes. A new coat of paint, flowers in a window, the remnants of graffiti.

It was an old habit, hard to break, but at times like this it provided a welcome distraction.

Ropes were strung between the rooftops, the first stage of a plan to put solar panels over the streets. They'd been there for years, linking the rooftops together, but no solar panels had joined them yet. Occasionally families use them to hang up washing – when the Peacekeepers weren't watching too closely.

As I got closer to Square One, I entered the Hub. The buildings here were taller, sturdier. It became harder to distinguish between them - my only clues were a strip of paint torn away, an open window, a stray ribbon caught in a fence. The Hub is where the power is 'collected', for lack of a better term, all of it organised, logged, sorted, before being sent where it is needed. It is the nexus of District 5, a collection of buildings where the best of us work. My teachers already say that I will be there some day.

I turned the corner, and Square One came into view. It looked like it had for the past three years - blank, grey, impersonal. The Justice Building sat, dark and imposing, on the far side of the square. A stage had been set up in front of it, with chairs, microphones and the bowls from which the Tribute's names would be drawn.

After I had been registered, I joined the rest of the fifteen-year-old girls, near the centre of Square One. I knew some of them from my school, by sight if not by name, but I didn't talk to them, instead choosing to glance around the square, taking in the faces around me. Many looked scared – the youngest, the ones for whom this is their first Reaping, and the oldest as well, those who will be free after this year. Many more have a careful blank face which I recognise well – the same face that I am wearing.

Silence fell as a man walked onto the stage. Humar Greft. The District 5 announcer, chaperone, or whatever he is, for the last seven years. A recurring feature in my nightmares for the past seven years as well. He smiled, his signature huge, fake, Capitol smile, smoothed down his dark blue suit and began to speak.

His voice was strangely high for a man, and combined with his Capitol accent, should have been ridiculous. And it was, if you chose to forget that he could hold your future in his hands.

I listened to him speak, the same well-worn words that he had spoken for the last seven years. The welcome, the reminder of the rules, all the same. I stared at the other figures on the stage as the now-familiar lines of the Treaty were read. The Head Mayor of District 5 was seated at the back of the stage, along with two others – the mentors for this year, past Victors of the Games. I couldn't recognise them from where I was standing. I fidgeted as Humar continued talking, my nervousness increasing with every passing minute.

At last, the actual Reaping. _You shouldn't be glad about this_, I told myself, but I was. I was eager for Humar to announce the Tribute, wanting to go back to my normal life, to try to forget about the Games for another year.

"Ladies first!" Humar proclaimed, the same as all the other years, dipping his hand into the huge bowl. I held my breath as he fished around. He pulled out a piece of paper and unfolded it, smiling as he announced the name.

"Solaire Orien!"

My name.

**A/N: This is (hopefully) going to become a multi-chapter fic, from Foxface's point-of-view. Yes, I made up Foxface's name. And what I thought District 5 would be like. Thanks for reading, if you could review that would be fantastic! Feel free to point out any dodgy/awkward grammar/spelling – I check as much as I can, but I still miss things.**

**Thanks to all who reviewed my first fanfic – you guys rock!**


	2. Parting

Chapter 2: The Parting

"Solaire Orien."

Humar's voice rang out over the crowd, speaking my name.

_This can't be happening._

Around me, I felt the others stir, looking around. Searching for me.

_This can't be real._

A group of Peacekeepers left their posts to prowl through the crowd.

"Solaire?" Humar's smile didn't waver.

There was no running away now; no trying to pretend the Hunger Games didn't exist. No pushing it away, keeping it at a distance. I took a deep breath, trying to prepare myself.

I stepped out of line, and the Peacekeepers immediately converged on me. Surrounded, I began the walk to the stage. Humar called for a round of applause, which started weak and slowly died. Silence reigned as I climbed the steps onto the stage.

Humar beamed at me, and then turned back to the crowd. "Does anyone wish to volunteer?" he asked, "Experience the chance to be a Victor, instead of Miss, um," He glanced back down to the paper slip, "Miss Solaire?"

No one volunteered, but that was what I expected. There are some things that even the best of friends wouldn't do for you.

"Well then, Miss Solaire is your female Tribute, District 5!" Humar shook my hand, and then strolled over the other bowl. "And now for the boys!"

I didn't hear the name he called out. As soon as Humar left my side, it was all I could do not to collapse. I stared out over the heads of the others in the square, fighting to keep my face blank. _Focus, Solaire_.

I looked up to see a dark-haired boy, flanked by Peacekeepers, climbing onto the stage. He looked about fifteen or sixteen, skinny but tall, a head taller than Humar.

Humar called for volunteers, and again there were none. He shook the boy's hand, and then proclaimed, "District 5, your Tributes!"

Tribute. That's all I was to them now.

I shook the boy's - the other Tribute's - hand, and then we were both led into the Justice Building behind the stage. I was only allowed a brief glimpse at the entrance hall, but there wasn't much to see. In contrast to its dark exterior, the inside was painted in shades of white and grey, with portraits of stern-looking officials hung on the walls. I was marched up a short flight of stairs to the right, while the boy was led away to the left. The Peacekeepers led me into the first room along the corridor, then left.

I sat on the lone chair in the room, still too numb to do anything but stare blankly at the door. I remembered the past years, of leaving the square after the Reaping. _I shouldn't be here, I should be out there, this can't be happening, I… I don't… this isn't fair!_

After a few minutes I heard footsteps outside the door, accompanied by muffled sobs. I rose from the chair as the they grew louder. The door was pushed open and my parents entered.

My mother ran to me and hugged me, crying into my dress. My father wrapped his arms around both of us. We stood in silence for a moment, trying to comfort each other.

"Sol," my mother sobbed, "Sol, my baby…"

"We love you, Sol," my father kissed me gently on the forehead.

"I – I love you too," I stammered, unsure of what to say. A small part of me wanted to tell them everything, knowing that this could be our last conversation, but it didn't seem real to me yet.

"Promise us you'll win, Sol." My mother wiped her eyes and stared into mine, "You – you have to, you have to come back –"

"I promise." I knew that the promise was useless, but I made it anyway.

Silence fell again, and I couldn't help but feel that I was wasting the last moments of time with my parents.

"Tell everyone goodbye, from me," I whispered, trying to hold back tears. They both nodded, hugging me tighter as if doing so would keep me with them.

There was a knock at the door and four Peacekeepers entered. I knew what that meant – the end of this time with my parents.

"Don't forget me." The words spilled out of my mouth as the Peacekeepers pulled my parents away. "I love you, and – and I promise, I _promise_ I'll come back, just – I – I love you!"

Their answering words were cut off as the door slammed shut behind them.

I collapsed onto the chair and buried my face in my hands. _Why didn't I… I should have told them!_

More footfalls sounded in the corridor outside, and the door opened again. This time, the Peacekeepers shoved in two boys before leaving.

"Lecta? Aden?" I said, confused.

"Of course, Sol." Lecta smiled shakily.

"We couldn't miss seeing you off, after all." Aden tried to smile as well, but didn't succeed. His eyes were darting around the room, looking for exits, escapes – ways to get out that didn't exist.

Lecta pulled me up off the chair, hugging me tightly. I buried my face in his chest, biting my lip to keep back the tears. Being with him reminded me of nights and rooftops, the moonlight glancing off solar panels and the faint glimpses of stars in the sky. Darker memories surfaced as well, of him holding me after… after _that _night. I pushed the thought out of my mind, like I had done so many times before.

Lecta was taller than me, and so was Aden, but their similarities – physical similarities, at least – ended there. Lecta was blond and blue-eyed where Aden had dark hair and green eyes, and both of them had darker skin than me – not that _that _was difficult to have either.

Aden made a faint noise of disgust and stepped away from the window. "Bolted shut, and we're on the first floor as well." He looked down at me sadly, "Sol, we could _try_ the Peacekeepers."

"You know that's a stupid idea, Aden," I said, breaking away from Lecta to walk over to him. "And even if you did get me away from here, what then?"

He scowled at the floor. "It doesn't feel right, just letting you go. You're the best of us, Sol. You have a future."

"_Had _a future," I corrected him.

Lecta tilted my head back so he could look into my eyes. "You can do this, Solaire," he said softly. "You're strong, you know. You should know that with... with –"

He broke off as the footsteps sounded outside the room once more.

"Here." Aden pulled a something shiny out of his pocket and gave it to me. I stared at it in confusion.

"A _bracelet_?" I asked. It was silver, shaped into a braid-like design.

"For your token, Sol." Aden clasped it around my wrist as the door opened and the Peacekeepers entered.

Lecta gave me a final hug. "Remember us."

I could only nod as they were steered out of the room. The door slammed shut again, leaving me alone.

**AN: Sorry about the wait! I have a habit of starting things and not finishing them – if you ever think I should get a move on, feel free to PM me/review! Anyway, thanks for reading this chapter, there **_**will **_**be more coming soon. Honestly, I have about half of it written, it's just these introduction scenes that I struggle with. I'm sorry if I made a hash of it, so any constructive criticism is appreciated. **

**(Also – I'm not sure if any of you have written any Hunger Games fanfics, but it seems like my mind is saying: Hunger Games = Present Tense. I didn't really want to try present tense for this, but it just keeps popping up. I check it, but if there are any random present tense sentences that I missed, it would be awesome if you let me know.)**

**(And, yes, that may have been me shamelessly begging for reviews. I'm sorry.)**

**Again, thanks for reading!**


	3. Beginning

Chapter 3: The Beginning

* * *

I sat in silence on the train, next to the boy. The Peacekeepers had led me here after Aden and Lecta had left. I vaguely remembered there being a crowd at the train station, but the memories felt distant, unreal.

We were in the third compartment of the train, as far as I could tell. There were tables down the centre of the room, laden with food and drink, but neither of us had touched any. I avoided the boy's gaze, staring out of the windows that lined the walls of the train.

The door to the compartment slid open, making me jump. Humar strode in, wearing a different suit, green instead of blue. With him were two other people, a man and a woman, both dressed in plain, dark clothing.

"Welcome again, my dear Tributes!" Humar smiled widely - did he ever stop? - and gestured to the figures behind him. "Allow me to introduce Deran and Jedda, your mentors. I'll leave you all to get acquainted." He bowed slightly, waved at our mentors, and left.

The woman spoke first, her voice low and raspy, "We're training you separate this year." She pointed at me. "I've got you, girl, and Jedda here's going to be your mentor, boy. This carriage is mine, so you two feel free to leave."

Jedda grabbed two bottles of what I assumed was alcohol from the tables. "C'mon, boy," he said, his words ever-so-slightly slurred. After they left, the woman collapsed into a chair opposite me.

"It's Deran, girl." Her voice was almost the opposite of Humar's, without a trace of Capitol accent.

"Solaire." I was sure I should say more, but she cut me off.

"Strengths." The word was a demand.

I stared at her, confused. She waved her hand impatiently. "What are your strengths?"

I hadn't expected to start so early. "I'm not sure—"

"_Now, _girl."

"Running," I said. Running was my first reaction to most situations, born out of my instincts to shy away from danger.

"Hiding." There were many places in District 5 in which to hide, if you looked.

"Obser- observance? Observation?" I stuttered slightly, "And I'm smart."

Deran smirked at me. "Offensive skills? I didn't win my Games by just running, hiding and looking at things."

I felt a surge of anger, which was quickly replaced by despair. Offensive skills were, essentially, killing skills. And I had none.

"Weaknesses, then," she continued, watching my face, "No offensive skills at all, no survival experience, no strategy. Easy prey for Careers. Easy prey for any Tribute."

I stared at her. "Aren't you supposed to teach me? Help me?" I hated how vulnerable I sounded.

"Fine. Tell me your plan."

"I don't— how can you expect me to have a plan?" My mind was still a jumble. The Reaping, my good-byes, how could anyone expect me to still think?

Deran leaned closer and looked me in the eye. "In a week's time, you will be fighting to the death, girl. You need to prepare."

I could accept that, logically, even if, emotionally, I was a mess. So I started to think, focusing on my years of watching the Games, distracting myself from the thoughts of home.

"I think..." I began, "I think that I won't be able to match the Careers in fighting skills."

"Excellent," Deran said dryly, "So what are you going to do about that?"

"Four days of training won't help much."

"You can get basic skills. I'd suggest knives - versatile, small."

I remember back to last year's Games. "I'll run, hide, stay away from the others. Let them kill each other."

"And when the others come for you?"

"Keep running."

"Interesting. Do you have any survival skills?"

"You told me I didn't."

"I was generalizing. I'll take that as a no, then." She pulled out a notebook from inside her jacket and looked up at me. "If that's the extent of your plan - running, hiding, staying out of the way - you'll want to go to the survival stations, not the weapons. But as I said before, knife skills wouldn't hurt either."

She began to write in the notebook.

"We can discuss more strategy later, girl. For now, personality." Deran studied me, and I looked away quickly. "You'll want to be memorable, to attract sponsors, but not too much, to avoid being targeted."

"Do we need to do this now?" I asked, watching the landscape flash by through the windows. "Surely there's enough time later on?"

"We do this _now_." Deran's tone was firm. "We start at the beginning. You need as much help as we can give you."

I switched my attention back to her. "The odds are that I'll die anyway," I said bluntly. As I said the words, I felt them sink in. In a week's time, I could be dead. I probably _would_ be dead, or dying, or forced to kill others.

"We can change the odds." She scribbled something else down in her notebook, "Memorable, yes, but not a threat. Or not much of a threat?" She frowned down at the page.

I stared as her. How could she be so… so cold?

She noticed my stare, and met my eyes. "Dwelling on the fact that you could die soon won't help you to live, girl. Better to accept it, move on, and plan to live. Trust me."

_Trust me._

I looked down and ran a finger around the bracelet that Aden and Lecta had given me. _I have to do this. For them, for my parents, for everyone. They expect me to be strong._

"Fine."

"Personality." Deran returned to her notebook. "You'll have a stylist, a prep team, of course, and they'll decide what you wear, how you look. That's not my decision, but if they're the same as before, I can… _influence _them."

_If they're the same as before._ I wondered how many Tributes Deran had mentored.

"Looking at you, I think we'd go with... shy, or… elusive. Not strong, or powerful… you don't have the skills, you're not believable."

"I'm not _useless_," I muttered.

"I never said that. But based on what you've told me, girl, you're not gonna be able to pull off being a fighter."

"So I'll be a… thinker?" I tried to find a word that sounded less stupid, less juvenile.

"Exactly. A thinker, a strategist. We can work with that." Deran began to write again. "Elusive, as I said before, mysterious, yes…"

"Is that all?" I asked quietly, feeling abruptly tired. Outside, the sun was getting lower in the sky, shining on trees and fields that were so different from my home in District 5.

Deran stopped writing and closed her notebook. "Almost." She seemed almost hesitant. "Some advice, girl. First, forget."

"Forget what?"

"Everything. Your home, your family, your friends… your old life. Don't dwell on it. No matter what happens, you'll never get it back. Not even if you win."

_Not even if you win._ I shook my head. "No, that won't… if I'm a Victor…"

She sighed. "I'm not going to argue with you now. Just remember that victory doesn't mean that you're free. Second, don't learn their names – they're just Tributes to you now. Enemies, not people."

"But that's…" I trailed off, shocked again by her coldness.

"It's what you need to do to survive, girl." Deran stood up, and I rose automatically as well. "Think about what I've told you. We'll talk again tomorrow, once we're in the Capitol."

Deran stalked out of the compartment and I sank back down into my chair. _The Capitol_. I stared out of the window, watching the sun slowly sinking behind the clouds. Twenty-four tributes would enter the Capitol, but only one would leave after the Games. I shivered, and glanced down at my bracelet again. It would be my token in the Arena, I realised, my one last link to District 5. I wondered how Aden and Lecta had gotten it. Did they… _no_, I thought,_ I can't think of that. _That was gone, in the past.

I was still watching the sunset when Jedda and the boy entered the compartment. They ignored me, grabbing food from the tables before settling down in the corner of the room opposite from me. I followed their example, reluctantly rising from my chair to fill a plate with food. Everything looked delicious, but slightly _off_, somehow, the colours too vivid to be natural. I returned to my chair with a full plate and began to eat, gazing out the window as the light faded from the sky.

I had finished eating when Jedda and the boy stopped talking. "You, girl!" Jedda called, and I turned to face him. "Are you done there? I'll show you and the boy to your rooms."

I nodded and followed the two of them into the next compartment. Jedda held open the second door for me. "This is yours."

"Thanks." I walked in and he closed the door behind me, leaving me alone. I looked around the room. It was fairly basic, with just a bed, a table and a wardrobe, but everything was richly decorated. I supposed some people would call it elegant, but it seemed wasteful to me.

I pulled off my shoes and lay down on the bed, too tired to change out of my dress. I wondered what my parents were doing, how they were coping. My eyes began to fill with tears. _No, home is gone, _I thought, _I can't think of them, not now, not anymore._ I turned off the lights and closed my eyes, hoping that I would fall asleep quickly. I needed to be rested for tomorrow – for the beginning of my time as a Tribute in the Capitol.

* * *

**A/N: As always, thanks for reading, reviews are welcome.**


	4. The Capitol

Chapter 4 : The Capitol

* * *

The train arrived in the Capitol after breakfast. I watched the crowd as we pulled into the station. The colours of their clothes, their hair, their _skin, _even – it was unnatural, too bright and vivid to be real. When they spotted me through the window, they began to cheer louder. I stepped back quickly.

Deran came up behind me. "Come on, girl, time to face the crowd," she said, pushing me towards the door. "Remember, you're _mysterious_."

I stepped out of the train first, followed closely by the boy. As Deran, Jedda and Humar disembarked, I concentrated on keeping my face blank, trying to appear calm and unfazed by the strangeness around me.

The five of us were taken from the station to the Training Centre, the skyscraper that would be our homes for the next week. The foyer of the building was huge… and deserted. I supposed that the Capitol staggered the arrival of the Tributes, so there would be no _incidents _before the Games. I could see seats and viewing screens along the sides of the room – for the mentors and escorts, presumably.

"District 5, fifth floor," Humar said cheerily, as we entered one of the many lifts, "Can't get lost."

The lift doors opened and I was briefly shocked at the sight of the apartment. It had so much _space_. Living in District 5, space was a precious commodity, and everything there was packed together tightly. Here, however, the whole floor was set aside for our use. The main room that was connected to the lifts seemed to be a sort of central meeting area, with plush couches centred around a single large screen.

Humar glanced at a clock on the wall. "Ten minutes, then we're off to the stylists." He beamed at us. "Time for a quick tour, I think."

Deran gestured at me, and I followed her down one of hallways that lead off from the main room.

"This is yours, girl." Deran opened a door on her left and I got a brief glimpse of the room beyond before she closed it. She continued to walk down the hall.

"If they haven't changed things, then _that_ is my room," she added, pointing to a door on her right,  
"And down the end here is the dining room."

We stepped into the dining room and I was assaulted by the smell of food. There was a table at the centre of the room, and it was filled with plates of food. I automatically started to walk towards it before Deran grabbed me.

"_No_," she said firmly, pulling me back down the hallway. I struggled against her grip, but without any results.

She released me when we were halfway down the hall. "Trust me, girl, you don't want to eat anything now. Wait until after your stylist is done with you."

* * *

"This is Styre, your stylist." Deran pointed at the man standing next to her. We – Deran and I, at least – had just arrived at the Remake Centre. I assumed that Jedda and the boy were somewhere here as well, but Deran seemed intent on keeping us as separate as possible.

I studied the man – Styre. He was shorter than me, with blue eyes and, bizarrely, light blue skin. I had seen him before, during previous Games, but he had been assigned to another District then. District 6, possibly. I hadn't paid much attention to the stylists before – or the Games. I preferred to ignore them as much as possible, to push them away and pretend that they didn't exist. That had worked for me, right up until the moment I was Reaped.

Styre snapped his fingers and three people – two women and a man – darted out from the room next to ours.

"This is your prep team." Styre spoke with a distinct Capitol accent, in short, sharp bursts. "Trie, Guavi and Rese. They will help me to help you."

"Excellent." Deran cut in before I could speak. "Now, I have some ideas already – "

"Yes, yes, fine." Styre gave her a disdainful look, "We will talk while she is prepared."

I was ushered into the next room by my new prep team. They worked together flawlessly, without speaking, so much in synchronisation that I was unnerved. I wondered how many Tributes they had prepared before, and how many had survived the Games. I watched them from my place on the bench as they circled me, not talking to me, just pushing me gently to make sure I was in the right position. Did they feel guilt, I thought, did they ever think about the Tributes they had worked on before, or did they just forget about them?

It hit me again, suddenly, the fact that I was going to be competing in the Games. The recognition that, in a few days' time, I would be put into the Arena to fight to the death. It hadn't seemed real before, but as my prep team worked on me, I knew there would be no waking up from this nightmare. The plans that I had made with Deran on the train yesterday now seemed childish and useless, and I was afraid.

I felt tears forming in my eyes. _No, I can't cry, don't think of it, remember what Deran said_.

One of the women noticed me crying. "Nearly done here," she said, breaking the silence, "Then you'll be all ready for tonight, won't that be simply fantastic?"

_No, it won't, you…you stupid blind idiot!_ The anger swelled up suddenly inside me. I wanted to yell at her, to scream at her, to make her see that I was a _person_, _dammit_, and not just something to be prettied up and sent off to die. But the rational side of my brain reminded me that doing that would gain me nothing, and could cost me the chance for sponsors. As much as I was beginning to despise them, I knew they had their uses.

At last they were finished, and I was taken back out to where Styre was waiting with Deran. To my surprise, Jedda and the boy were there as well, along with the boy's prep team. I tugged self-consciously on the flimsy robe that I had been given, wishing I was wearing more.

"District 5 supplies power. _You _will represent this power." Styre nodded to my prep team. They scurried back into the other room and returned with the costumes that we – the boy and I – would be wearing that night.

The costumes were similar to the other District 5 clothes that I could remember. After all, there weren't that many ways to show _power_. The outfits consisted of a shiny silver pants and singlet set, and a strange circular headpiece, also silver. Everything was covered in glitter and sequins, and looked incredibly _tasteless_, to my mind at least. _Still, the Capitol has different ideas about fashion._

After that, the day passed in a blur. We were taken back to the Training Centre for lunch, with Deran again warning against eating too much, then back to the Remake Centre for final preparations. Styre and the rest of my prep team spent all afternoon trying different styles for me – my hair, my make-up, even going so far as to re-stitch some of the clothes to make them fit better. I hated it, hated wasting time on this frivolous, fancy beautification when I would be fighting in less than a week. Talking to Deran would have been much more useful, but she hadn't returned to the Remake Centre with me.

At last it was time. My anger at my prep team was replace by apprehension as they took me to the place where the chariots waited, ready for the ride through the Capitol. The boy was there already, dressed almost identically to me, along with Deran and Jedda. Around them were some of the other Tributes with their mentors and prep teams, each District in its own space.

"Wave, smile and don't fall off," Deran instructed as she helped me up. The boy climbed up as well, standing on my left.

I fidgeted nervously as more Tributes entered the room. It was the first time I had seen any of them – I had missed the recap of the Reapings. I could tell the Careers from the others; they were the confident ones, the arrogant ones.

"District 1." A loud voice boomed through the room. The District 1 prep team checked the Tributes one last time, and then the chariot took them out. District 2 followed soon after.

I glanced around at the other Tributes, noting the different costumes. I tried pick out each District, but I had only found half when our chariot starting moving. I gripped the front of it with both hands as it took the boy and me out into the Capitol.

I squinted against the bright lights as we were taken down the street. I could only just see the outlines of people along the side of the road, but I could hear them well enough. Their voices drowned out the sound of the wheels on the road, and my own panicked breathing. I _hated _being the centre of attention, and hearing the hordes of Capitol citizens wasn't helping me to stay calm. Next to me, the boy raised his hand and began to wave to the crowds. _Come on, Solaire_. I lifted my eyes from the road and straightened my back. _Do it for the sponsors. _Belatedly, I realised that my parents would be watching this. Aden and Lecta, too. I waved tentatively at the crowd. My arm felt heavy and awkward, but I kept going. _I can't look weak._

I continued waving until we reached the end of the road. As our chariot pulled in next to District 3, I lowered my arm gratefully. I held on to the chariot as shivers ran through me, trying to seem calm and focussed for the cameras. _Halfway there,_ I thought faintly, _just concentrate_.

As the last few chariots reached the end of the road, the cheering began to increase in volume. I turned, curious, and saw the last chariot – District 12. Except… I frowned, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.

_Fire._ The Tributes were dressed simply in black, but flames streamed out behind them. The fire couldn't have been real, of course, but it created a stunning spectacle. The Tributes were waving, too, but unusually, they were holding hands. Fire-girl and Fire-boy, I named them, watching as their chariot slowed to a stop.

I kept my eyes on them as we – the Tributes – were greeted by the Capitol. The fire on them flickered and danced without burning them, and I noticed many other Tributes sneaking looks at them as well. The Careers in particular looked upset, most probably annoyed at being upstaged by the lowly District 12.

The crowd roared again and I realised that the speech had ended. The horses began to move without guidance, taking us Tributes down into a room underneath the podium. Jedda and Deran were there to greet us as our chariot came to a stop. I climbed down and crossed my arms across my chest, trying to stop shaking.

"What's wrong, girl?" Deran asked as she guided me towards the exit.

I shook my head, ashamed. "It's the crowds," I muttered, "I don't … I'm not good at that."

"Oh."

Styre and the prep team took charge of me then, taking off my costume and make-up, and dressing me back in my clothes – the same red dress that I had worn to my Reaping.

Deran remained silent as we entered the Training Centre and travelled up to the fifth floor. "Well, girl," she said at last, "You might need to work on that before your interview."

My interview. I hadn't thought too much about that, but now I was worried. How would I cope with being the centre of attention of all of Panem?

"Don't worry about it now." Deran opened the door to my room for me, and I stumbled inside. "Get some sleep. We'll talk it over in the morning."

I staggered over to the bed, feeling exhausted. For the second time in as many nights, I feel asleep in my red dress, trying not to think of home.

* * *

**A/N: This chapter was a bit longer than normal - the chapters are most likely going to be a bit longer from now on. There's probably going to be two more chapters before the Games started properly. Anyway, thanks for reading, review maybe?**


	5. Training

Chapter 5: The Training

* * *

The next day I was woken up by insistent knocking on my door. "Yes?" I called, still half-asleep.

Deran pushed open the door. "_Up_, girl, or you'll miss your training session," she snapped, dumping a pile of clothes on the end of my bed, "These are what you'll be wearing. We leave in half an hour." I gaped at her as she left. What was _wrong _with her? I shook my head, trying to clear it, before climbing out of bed.

My new training clothes were simple, black pants and boots, and a long-sleeved silvery shirt. I got dressed in them, and laid my old red dress on the bed. It was hopelessly crumpled, but I had no way to change that. What would happen to it when I went into the Games? Would they send it back to my parents? A smaller, darker part of my mind wondered if they would send it back with my corpse.

I pushed that thought away and went to the bathroom attached to my room. Again I contemplated the _space _that the Capitol had. Back home… I closed my eyes. No, I couldn't think of home.

I walked over to the sink and pulled open one of the drawers beneath it. As I suspected, it had a hairbrush and hair-ties in it, all in pristine condition. I looked through the other drawers as well – they had make-up, hair clips, and various other products. Everything was new and untouched.

After grabbing the hairbrush and a tie, I closed the drawers and straightened up. I looked at my reflection in the mirror above the sink. It was the first time I had seen my reflection since my time at the Remake Centre, and I was surprised at how _not _different I seemed. From the amount of time my prep team had worked on me, I had expected some larger changes. My eyebrows were slightly thinner, and my hair was a bit darker – they had dyed it – and cut slightly shorter, but it was still _me_.

I quickly pulled my hair up into a bun – even if I was completely out of my depth in training, I could still appear to be prepared. As I put the brush back into the drawer, I noticed the bracelet on my wrist. I hadn't even thought about it yesterday, though I must have been wearing it, as there were red marks on my wrist where I had slept on it. My token, my last link to District 5.

"Girl!" Deran's shout drew me out of my musings. I ran out of the bathroom and found her glaring at me from the doorway. She stabbed her finger in the direction of the dining room. "Get. Going."

I rushed past her and down the hallway, slowing to a walk when I reached the dining room. Jedda and the boy were there already, along with Humar. I grabbed a plate and filled it with food, before sitting at the opposite end of the table. I ignored them and ate my breakfast quickly. Similar to last two days, there was an overwhelming amount of food to choose from. Unlike the food from the train, however, these dishes were simple, almost plain.

I had just finished when Deran stormed into the room. She sat in the chair next to me, paying no attention to the others. "The Training Centre is in the basement of this building," she said, her voice harsh, "You can find it yourself, I'm sure. Go to survival and knives first. Steer clear of the other Tributes, especially the Careers. Don't give them any reason to remember you."

I nodded, still trying to work out the reason for her change in demeanour. True, she had never been exactly pleasant, but this was unusual for her. Then again, I had only known her for two days.

She snapped her fingers in front of my face. "Stop daydreaming, girl. Go!"

I flushed in embarrassment and stood up from the table. A glance in the boy's direction told me that he was still in conversation with Jedda and Humar. "So…" I began, uncertainly. I felt unsure, scared, like a child on her first day of school.

Deran sighed and pushed me in the direction of the lifts. "Go."

I resolved to ask her my questions later, hopefully when she was in a better mood.

I walked quickly to the lifts and waited for one to arrive. When the doors opened, I saw that there were other Tributes in it – from which Districts, I didn't know. I avoided their gazes as I entered the lift, positioning myself as far away from them as possible. Thankfully, the lift reached the basement level in a matter of seconds, and I stepped out first.

The training area took up almost the entire basement level. It consisted of many small, separate stations – weapons mostly on one side of the room, survival stations on the other. I noticed a balcony-type structure running around the edge of the room – for spectators, I assumed.

The session hadn't started yet, and I felt a stab of annoyance at Deran for making me hurry. I stood awkwardly near the lifts, waiting for the rest of the Tributes to arrive. I studied the Tributes that were already there, careful to avoid eye contact. It was impossible to tell what District they were from – all I knew was that they weren't Careers, and they weren't from District 12. Fire-girl and Fire-boy hadn't arrived yet, but I remembered their faces from yesterday.

Soon more Tributes began to arrive – most appeared calm, except for a slight dark-skinned girl who looked barely old enough to be twelve. She retreated to a corner, her eyes flickering nervously over all of the Tributes around her. I felt a sudden wave of sympathy for her, which I tried to ignore. Enemies, I reminded myself, they're my enemies, and I can't feel sorry for them.

At last all the Tributes were there and the session began. The lead instructor explained the rules and pointed out the stations before letting us go. Following Deran's instructions, I went to the survival stations first. Most of the other Tributes were lining up at the weapons stations, which meant I was able to go unnoticed. I learnt how to purify water with iodine, identify edible berries, and build a fire, all without being interrupted by any other Tributes. The instructors were helpful but reserved, talking to me without smiling.

I kept glancing over to the knife station. I knew that I needed to go there sometime, and I wanted that time to be today, but one of the Careers was there. She had been there since the beginning of the session, throwing knives at the targets. She never missed. Knife-girl, I named her.

I continued on the survival stations until lunch, watching the other Tributes out of the corner of my eye when I could. The Careers were sauntering from station to station, leering at the other Tributes and showing off their skills. Fire-girl and Fire-boy were moving from station to station together, talking quietly to each other. They were dressed similarly, too – unlike me and my District partner – and I wondered what that meant. The hand-holding, the working together… it was like they were a team.

Lunch was held in a room off of the training area. I ate by myself, sitting at a table in the corner of the room. The Careers sat together, as did the District Twelve Tributes, but the rest of the Tributes sat alone, like me.

After lunch ended, I went straight to the knife station. Knife-girl wasn't there – she'd joined the rest of the Careers. I was grateful for that. I didn't want to talk to her – or anyone else.

The afternoon passed quickly as I worked my way around the room. I learnt how to make traps for animals – small ones for rabbits, and larger ones as well. The instructor was quick to point out how they could also work for humans. I couldn't imagine setting a trap for another Tribute – I didn't even know if I would be able to bring myself to kill an _animal_, let alone another person.

The head instructor dismissed us late in the afternoon. I was exhausted by then – even though I hadn't done much physically, I had learnt so much.

When I stepped out of the lift, I saw Deran waiting for me in the central room.

"Can it wait?" I asked, before she had a chance to speak, "I'm hungry."

She shrugged and stood up. "I thought you had some questions for me."

Which question to ask first? I had so many things that I wanted to know.

"My interview… what do I do? How do I prepare? What should I _say_?" I felt sick and nervous just thinking about it. Maybe it was stupid, worrying about this trivial performance instead of the Games that would come after it, but I didn't care.

"I've talked to Strye – he'll help you tomorrow." Deran began walking to the dining room and I followed her. "The plan is to stick to _my _plan – you're mysterious, and elusive. So don't say much, and think before you speak."

_Don't say much_. I could do that. I sat down at the table, filled my plate and began to eat. "Also," I said between bites, "What about tokens?"

"You have one?"

I nodded and showed her my bracelet.

"I'll need to take that off you some time – it needs to pass the Gamemaker's inspections before you can wear it into the Arena." She noticed my worried look. "It shouldn't be a problem, though."

We finished our meal in silence. Down the other end of the table, Jedda and the boy were quiet as well.

The rest of the evening I spent talking with Deran, refining my strategy as much as we could. There was so much that we didn't know – mainly about the Arena – but I told her as much as I could remember about the other Tributes.

I struggled to take in everything that she was saying – the day felt as if had been going on forever and my brain was tired and sluggish.

"Go and sleep, girl," she said, pulling me to my feet, "I can see you're not listening."

"Sorry," I mumbled. She waved her hand towards my room and I took that as my cue to leave.

Inside my room, I looked through the wardrobe for the first time. To my surprise, my red dress was in there – someone had obviously cleaned up my room. There were other outfits in there as well, all of them in my size, it seemed. I pulled out some clothes from a drawer – a dark red top and loose black pants – and changed out of my training clothes.

I climbed into bed and closed my eyes. _Sleep, Solaire_, I told myself drowsily, _you'll need to be alert for tomorrow._

* * *

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to the people who are tracking this fic, or favourite-d it, or reviewed it. Thank you. You're awesome.**

**As always, thanks for reading!**


	6. Testing

**Chapter 6**

* * *

Deran woke me again in the morning. I blinked up at her sleepily as she stood in the doorway. She didn't seem _too_ angry this morning – at least not yet.

"Up," she said briskly, "Time to move, girl."

I pulled myself out of bed and got dressed in the same clothes as yesterday. Deran wasn't there when I got to the dining room, so I ate breakfast by myself.

The day went by much like the day before – I kept to the survival stations, staying out of the way. During lunch I watched the other Tributes – the non-Careers – trying to pick out threats. It was difficult, trying to see them as enemies. At least the Careers had volunteered for this, had prepared for this. Deran had talked with me about this. _I know it's hard_, she had said, _it was the same for me, but you have to do this to survive._

The afternoon passed uneventfully. By the end of it I had been to all of the non-fighting instructors – I was a quick learner, and I definitely had a reason to work hard. As I went back to the fifth floor, I wondered what I was going to show the Gamemakers. I had picked up skills, of course, but I doubted that building a fire or tying rope would get me a good score.

Deran and Styre were waiting for me in the front room when I stepped out of the lifts.

"Excellent." Styre walked over to me and pulled me over to a couch. "Now, let us talk about the interview."

I winced and looked down at the floor. I had been trying to not think about the interview – the way that I would be almost alone on a stage in front of Panem.

"No." Styre put a hand under my chin and forced my head up. "Look straight ahead, not down. You are not _shy_ in this interview. You are _elusive_. You are quiet and confident. Practise that."

Confident? I didn't _feel _confident. I didn't feel prepared, either.

Styre rose from his seat on the couch, "We will talk to you in two days. Your interview dress will be ready by then. You must prepare."

I watched, stunned, as he walked over to the lifts. "That's _it_?" I whispered to Deran, after he had gone. "That's all of his advice?"

She shrugged. "He cares about fashion, girl. It's what he does." She pulled me to my feet. "Let's eat."

I waited until we had finished our meal before bringing up the topic of my private session with the Gamemakers.

After I had explained my problem, Deran studied me before responding. "A good score isn't everything, girl. It can be dangerous, even, if you have too good of a score."

"Yes."

"Some of the Victors had low scores, you know."

"Yes, but..."

"But _what_, girl?" Deran sounded exasperated.

"It's just..." It was hard to put into words. _I want to get a good score to stand out_, I wanted to say, _so that even if I die, at least everyone back home will have that much. I don't want to be just another Tribute, another average person – I'm _not _average, I can't be, I've worked so hard all my life, it can't just end _here.

"Just?"

"I'm just worried." I lied, not meeting her eyes. "Getting a low score would be for the best, then?"

She nodded slowly. "Go around to a few stations in your session; show them what you can do. That should be enough."

* * *

The next day I woke up early. After I had breakfast, I waited awkwardly in the room by the lifts. Training didn't start for a while and Deran was nowhere to be found.

The ride down to the basement was started to become familiar now. I took up a spot at the edge of the room, trying to act invisible. The Careers arrived late, in a pack, louder than ever. The other Tributes were more subdued – this was our last chance for training before our private sessions with the Gamemakers.

The morning passed in a blur. I went back to the knife station, and then kept moving around the weapons stations, carefully avoiding the Careers. I could feel myself becoming tenser as the morning went on. _Come on Solaire, this is your last chance! _I flitted from station to station, becoming almost frantic as lunch approached.

At last we were all ushered into the lunch room. I grabbed some food – a kind of soup and some sandwiches – and headed to the far corner of the room, trying not to show how scared I was. This was it. That training session was my last chance to learn, to practise, to prepare.

The District One boy was taken to his private session before I had finished my lunch. I bit my lip nervously as I watched him go. _Plan, Solaire. _I thought back to my training sessions, trying to work out a schedule for showing the Gamemakers. I didn't trust myself with any of the weapons stations, as many of them were too heavy for me to lift, let alone use. Ropes, then snares, then some of the plant identifying stations, I decided.

One by one, the other Tributes were called. I fidgeted, my mind running anxiously over what I had learnt. _Ropes, snares, plants. _The mantra ran through my mind over and over. I wished that I could just do it _now, _and I had a pang of sympathy for the District Twelve Tributes, the last to have their sessions. I glanced at them surreptitiously. They were sitting together, talking. Their voices were soft, but they still echoed in the quiet room. I felt unexpectedly lonely, and thought about Aden and Lecta, and my family. How were they holding up? _No, don't do that, you can't afford to think of home._ I closed my eyes. _Ropes, snares, plants_, I repeated to myself.

Finally, it was my turn to go. I walked quickly into the Training Centre, avoiding eye contact with any of the Tributes on the way out. The Gamemakers were on the balcony, clustered around a series of tables filled with food. One of them noticed me and waved his arm vaguely, and I took that as a cue to begin.

I went over to the rope station and worked quickly, blocking out the chatter from upstairs. I had tied three knots when I looked back up at the balcony and felt my stomach drop. They weren't watching me.

I abandoned the rope station and went to the snares. My hands were shaking slightly and I fumbled with the knots. _Easy, Solaire._ I started again, working more slowly, resisting the urge to glance up at the Gamemakers. Once the snare was complete, I triggered it with a piece of wood, and smiled as it worked. Unable to stop myself, I looked upwards, and saw that two of the Gamemakers had taken positions at the front of the balcony.

Energised, I went over to the plant identifying station. This had been my favourite station – there was something soothing about matching berries and leaves, and by now I was able to identify most of the more common poisonous, and benign, plants. My fingers flicked across the screen as I matched plants, grouping them together. When I finished, I prepared to move on to the next part of the station, but I was stopped by a loud cough from the balcony.

One of the Gamemakers – the same one that had noticed me first – had moved to the edge of the balcony. "You may leave," he said in a commanding voice, giving me the same lazy wave before turning away. I opened my mouth to respond, then paused. What _could _I say to them? They were all talking again, disregarding me, and I doubted that they would hear me anyway. _Coward_, a small voice whispered to me, but I ignored it.

I made my way out of the Training Centre and into the lifts in a kind of daze. It was hard to believe that all of my training was finished. The Games now seemed terrifyingly close.

Deran was nowhere to be found on the fifth floor when I returned. Unsure of what to do, I went back to my room and curled up on my bed, and spent the afternoon thinking. Plans and observations raced through my mind, and I struggled to focus my thoughts.

Deran returned after dinner, to my relief. We moved to the central room with Jedda and the boy – whose name I still didn't know – to watch the distribution of the scores.

Most of the scores were fairly predictable. The Careers all had high scores, none below eight, while the rest of the Tributes scored less. I received a five, and my partner a six. I tried to look pleased when Deran nodded approvingly.

The real surprise came at the end, with Fire-girl receiving an eleven. Jedda and Deran exchanged shocked glances – the first time I had seen them interact in the Capitol.

"Stay away from that one, girl," Deran muttered as we left the central room. I nodded absently. Staying away from all of the Tributes was my plan, as she well knew.

I walked into my room and shut the door firmly behind me. Tomorrow would be my last full day in the Capitol. I blinked back tears as I stared out the window. _Relax, Solaire_, I told myself, but it was hopeless. I slipped into bed and closed my eyes, trying not to think, and eventually drifted off to sleep.

* * *

**A/N. Sorry for the (extremely long) delay! Thanks for reading, and I'll hopefully get the next few chapters up before the end of the year!**


	7. Interview

I winced as sunlight streamed through the window. _Last day in the Capitol_. I dressed and went to the dining room, but I was too nervous to eat. The thought of the interview tonight, and the Games tomorrow, made me anxious. Deran seemed concerned, but quickly dragged me into a large room off of the dining room.

Styre and his team were already there, dressed in their garish Capitol fashions. My prep team steered me into another, smaller room while Styre began to talk to Deran.

My prep team checked me over before launching into another beautification session. I closed my eyes and lay back down on the table as they bustled around me, fixing up my hair and make-up, making sure I was presentable.

I was brought back to reality when one of them grabbed my arm and pulled me upright. Another one of them pulled a dress off a rack in the corner of the room, and together they helped me into it. I stared at my reflection in the mirror that my prep team had brought in.

The dress was... nice, I supposed. It was made out of a shiny green material that caught the light when I moved, sending sparkles across the walls. I tugged the skirt down self-consciously – it was short, almost uncomfortably so, and I tried not to think about how I would be wearing this dress in front of the entire nation of Panem tonight.

My prep team hovered around me, checking the fit of the dress as I watched myself in the mirror. After a few moments they appeared to be satisfied, and dressed me back in my normal clothes before pushing me out the door.

"So," said Styre, gesturing for me to sit on the couch beside Deran, "You have seen the dress. Now you must live up to it."

Styre and Deran spent the next few hours preparing me for the interview. _Sit tall, look at Caesar, talk slowly. _Deran fired off questions at me, and Styre corrected my answers and posture. _Cross your legs, smile slightly, don't show surprise_. We had a short break for lunch, then kept going. _Elusive, intelligent, calm, prepared. _I repeated the words over and over, trying to suppress my fears.

I was exhausted by the time evening came around. Deran and I went to the dining room and ate quickly, both of us mindful of Styre hovering by the door. When we finished Styre took me off to the dressing room again.

It seemed to take a very long time for my prep team to organise themselves. I tried to control my breathing as I repeated back Deran and Styre's words. _Calm, elusive, in control. _I could feel my hands starting to shake and I clenched them into fists. _Calm._

At last my prep team was finished; I was in my interview dress, with my hair and make-up done, looking perfectly presentable. They had done something slightly different, somehow – I looked older, more mature. I supposed that fitted with the persona that I would be projecting.

Deran took me back to the central room, where Jedda and the boy were waiting. He was wearing a grey suit, and seemed almost casual about the impending interview. I envied his confidence.

The trip was short, and soon the boy and I were herded into place with the other Tributes. Deran patted me lightly on the shoulder before leaving. I stared straight ahead, focusing. _Calm_.

As the interviews began, I felt my palms begin to sweat and I had the sudden urge to throw up. I stared up at the ceiling and tried to breathe deeply. _Calm._

The first Tribute up was the District One girl, tall and slim in a see-through gold dress. Gold-girl, I named her, trying not to panic. The next few interviews passed in a blur. I knew that each Tribute was given three minutes, but each interview seemed shorted than the last. Soon the District Four boy in front of me was called up. _Calm, Solaire, don't think about your parents or your friends or the way that everyone will be watching you..._

"And we welcome our next Tribute, from District Five, Solaire Orien!"

Caesar Flickerman's voice boomed through the speakers. I took a deep, shuddering breath and stepped up onto the stage.

I kept a small smile on my face as I walked over to the seat next to Caeser and sat down, crossing my legs. My whole body felt like it was shaking, but I forced myself to breathe evenly.

"So, Solaire." Caesar smiled invitingly at me, "How are you finding the Capitol?"

"Well, it certainly is the brightest place in Panem," I replied, thankful that my voice didn't squeak or crack.

"Oh, of course!" He grinned and I felt myself relax slightly, "You would know about that, coming from District Five."

The interview went by quickly after that. My life in District Five, my plans for the Games, my stylist and my outfits – thanks to Deran and Styre's training, I had an answer to every question he asked.

Except for the last question.

"Solaire, is there one last thing you'd like to finish off with?"

I froze. _One last thing? _My mind raced back through the hours of preparation. "Well," I said slowly, stalling for time. I turned away from Caesar, facing the Capitol audience. _Think, Solaire, come on!_ "I don't think that there's anything else to say. You'll see what I'm capable of soon enough."

Caesar helped me up. "Solaire Orien!" he said again, and the crowd cheered. I gave them one last smile and walked off the stage.

Once I was backstage I felt adrenaline rush through me. I bit my lip to stop myself grinning, mindful of the watching eyes of the other Tributes.

After my burst of happiness had subsided, I began to fret over the interview. Had it been good enough? Would it get me sponsors? Had anything I said even made _sense? _

The interviews seemed to go for longer and longer. It was a relief when District Twelve came around. Their two interviews stood out – first Fire-girl, seeming to be almost as nervous as I had been, showing off another lot of fake fire to the crowd, then Fire-boy with another surprise, a declaration of love.

I watched Fire-girl's face. From what I could tell, it was honest shock, and then... anger? I would have thought that she would have welcomed it, seeing as they had been working together throughout training.

The Capitol crowd was still chattering about the revelations when we were escorted back to the Training Center.

"Goodnight, girl," Deran said when we reached the fifth floor, patting me lightly on the shoulder, "Try to sleep tonight. It'll help."

"Solaire."

"Hmm?" Deran turned to face me, looking confused.

"My name is _Solaire,_" I snapped, "Not _girl_."

I stepped inside my room and slammed the door behind me. On the other side of the door, I heard Deran's footsteps move away down the hall.

I stared out of the window, over the lights of the Capitol. Part of me wanted to run back to Deran and apologise, but I stopped myself. I sat down on the edge of the bed and closed my eyes. _Last night in the Capitol. _It still felt unreal, all of it. It didn't seem possible that tomorrow I would be thrown into an arena to fight to the death.

It didn't seem possible that I might never see my family or friends again.

I ran my fingers over my bracelet – Deran had given it back to me after it had been checked by the Gamemakers. I wondered what Aden and Lecta had thought of my interview. Were they proud of me? _Don't think of home_, a small voice – Deran's voice – whispered to me, but I ignored it.

I knew why she called me _girl_, not Solaire – it was the same reason I didn't learn any of the Tributes' names. So I could keep my distance from them. So Deran could distance herself from me. I thought again about all of the previous Games that she had been a mentor for, how many other Tributes she had trained and seen die.

_That won't happen to me_. I switched off the lights and slipped into bed. _Run, hide, observe_. That was the essence of the plan Deran and I had come up with. I repeated the words over and over, pushing away all of my other thoughts, until I fell asleep.

* * *

**A/N: Delays, delays, delays! I'm really sorry about them, but I'm planning to get this done by the end of January, so the updates should be more frequent from now on. Thank you for reading, and special thanks to all those who have reviewed, favourited or followed this story. **


	8. Leaving

**A/N: From now on, I'll be writing the story in ****_present tense_**** – I think it'll work better this way. I may go back and rewrite the first chapters to fit in later.**

* * *

****I wake up early in the morning, after a night of fitful sleep. I lie in bed for a while, not thinking, just staring up at the ceiling. My body starts to shake and I close my eyes again. _Calm._

I get up and have breakfast – or at least I pile my plate with food. Deran is there, but we don't talk. I stare down at the mountains of food in front of me. _Eat_, my practical self urges, but I feel sick and on the verge of throwing up. I nibble on the corner of a piece of toast and try to relax.

"Girl," Deran begins, before looking me in the eye. "_Solaire_. Remember our plan. Run, hide, observe."

I nod, and we stand up together and take the lift to the ground floor where Styra is waiting for me.

"I can get you _one _thing in the Arena." Deran rests a hand on my shoulder. "Just say my name and what you want – I'll be watching."

I give her a half-hearted smile, which she returns. "Good luck, Solaire." She walks off, back toward the lifts, not looking back.

"Come," Styra snaps at me, and I follow him to where a Capitol craft is waiting. I enter behind him, and seat myself next to a small window.

The trip to the Arena goes by in silence. I stare out of the window, falling back into my old habit of counting – birds, clouds, anything to distract myself. When the windows go black, there is nothing left to distract me.

_Less than an hour until you could die_.

My mind is full of jumbled thoughts, and I clench my fists to keep them from trembling. Out of the corner of my eye I see Styra glance at me, but he quickly looks away.

At last the craft lands. I step out behind Styra, into an underground room. It is bare, except for a tube in the corner and some chairs in the middle. I stare at the tube in horror and fascination. That tube that will take me to the Arena. And possibly my death.

Styra gives me a cursory glance. "Your clothes, do they fit?" he asks briskly.

"Yes," I whisper. I am wearing brown pants, a green long-sleeved shirt, and a black hooded jacket, as well as dark brown boots. On my wrist I have my token, the bracelet from Aden and Lecta.

He walks around me, and straightens my jacket. "Good."

He sits down on one of the chairs, but I stay standing. The room is silent except the sound of my breathing. I try to compose myself. _Remember the plan._

_Remember the plan, _the small voice in my head scoffs, _and remember that there are twenty-three people who are going to try to kill you. _

A loud noise makes me gasp and jump slightly. Styra frowns at me as a voice is projected into the room.

"One minute until launch."

The glass of the tube slides down. Styre comes up behind me and pushes me slightly. "Time to go."

I walked forward slowly. My legs feel weak, and it seems to take an age before I am in the tube.

"Thirty seconds."

I turn around and face my stylist. "Styra," I say pleadingly, but he just shakes his head slightly and places his hands on my shoulders.

"No, girl." He tightens his grip, making sure than I don't move.

I stare into his eyes. They seem empty, almost.

"Fifteen seconds."

A sudden wave of panic washes over me. "No!" I try to shove him back but he stands firm. I wonder how many other Tributes he's done this to – how many Tributes he's worked on.

"Ten."

I struggle against him, my eyes beginning to fill with tears._ No, this isn't fair! This can't be happening! No!_

"Nine."

Styra grabs my hands and shoves me away from him.

"Eight."

My back hits the wall of the tube – not extremely hard, but hard enough for me to be slightly dazed. _Control yourself, Solaire! _I snap at myself, ashamed of my outburst.

"Seven."

I push myself away from the wall, but I don't attempt to get past Styra again. Looking away from him, I wipe the tears from my eyes. I can't afford to cry now.

"Six."

Styra moves back, away from the tube. I stare at him in confusion. Is he giving me a way out?

"Five."

There is a hiss and the glass walls of the tube drop down. The sound of my ragged breathing fills the air around me.

"Four."

Styra is still standing outside the tube, watching me. His expression is blank, uninterested.

"Three."

I brace my hands against the sides and close my eyes. _This is it._

"Two."

_Run, hide, observe. _Tears begin to leak from my eyes again, and I quickly brush them away.

"One."

The tube hisses again and begins to rise. In the launch room, Styra gives me one last glance before turning away. I straighten up and try to appear calm.

_This is it._


	9. Arena : Day 1

_This is it._

The tube rises up, out of the launch room, and the sunlight is bright in my eyes. I look around quickly, taking everything in. The nervousness that I felt before has changed into a cold, stomach-clenching fear. Everything seems sharp and clear. The launch circle I'm standing on is one of twenty four, arranged in a circle around the golden Cornucopia. The ground is hard-packed dirt, and the area inside the ring of launch circles is strewn with supplies. Behind the Tributes opposite me, there appears to be a lake, and behind me is a forest.

Knife-girl from District Two is next to me, on my left. She is glancing around too, making eye contact with the other Careers. I look longingly at the supplies scattered around, but I know that I won't get to them in time. Knife-girl is a fast runner, I don't doubt that, and when she gets to the supplies I don't want to be anywhere near her.

_Run. Hide. Observe._

The forest willbe my best chance; run there and hope that I have learned enough to be able to survive without any other supplies. I listen to the countdown, remembering a conversation that I had with Deran before.

_"Why don't Tributes just jump off the platform? Wouldn't they be able to avoid the blast from the mines?"_

_Deran scowls at me. "Don't, girl. Tributes have tried, Tributes have failed. Unless you want to die before the Games even begin, you will _stay _on your platform."_

Now that I know what to do, I feel calmer, more purposeful. I turn myself around so that I am facing the forest, my back to the supplies. The countdown reaches the final few seconds.

The gong sounds.

The Games have begun.

I leap off my circle and sprint for the forest.

The screams start before I am ten steps into the forest. I stumble as I hear the first cry, but I pull myself up and keep running. I know that no one will follow me; they'll be too busy at the bloodbath.

The next hours blur together – a constant cycle of running, then walking, then running again, pushing deeper into the woods. The forest become denser the further I go, and the ground begins to slope upwards. The only other change occurs mid-morning: the sound of cannons, signalling the deaths of Tributes.

I slow my pace as afternoon arrives, listening to the noises in the woods. It's strange to me – an alien world that seems so far away from my home in District 5. _No, don't. _I push back the thoughts, then it suddenly hits me_. I'm in the Hunger Games._ I stop for a moment, bracing myself against a nearby tree. I look up at it, towering high above me. _I'm in the Hunger Games._ I keep my face blank and calm, knowing that there are likely cameras recording me. _Don't let them know what you're thinking. Mysterious, elusive, calm._

I feel suddenly self-conscious, and brush a hand against my hair, tied back in a ponytail. _Stop it, Solaire!_ The rational part of my brain screams at me, urging me forward. _There are twenty-three people who want to kill you, and you're worried about how you look?_

I begin to run again, though as afternoon wears on my steps start to slow. I reach the top of a hill, and pause to rest. My stomach is growling, and my mouth is dry. I begin to wish that I had eaten more this morning.

The woods are quiet, but not silent. The faint sounds of birds, and unknown creatures scurrying in the bushes, fill my ears. Every time a new rustling starts, I feel a jolt of fear. I am defenceless, and I hate it, but I know that the odds of me being attacked by animals are slim. The Gamemakers control everything in the Arena, Deran had reminded me time and time again. There would be no gain for them if I died because of an animal, not now. _Gamemakers want excitement. _Deran had drilled that into me. _If you're not exciting by yourself, the Gamemakers will change that. It won't end well for you._

Being _exciting_, as Deran had put it, was the second part of the plan; the first part being _run, hide, observe. _

I turn to face one of the trees. It _looks _sturdy enough – but I've never climbed a tree before. I hesitate for a few minutes, circling it, trying to work out _how_ to climb it. _Just do it!_ I reach up and grab the lowest branch carefully, then pull myself up.

_Slow and steady,_ I tell myself, _and don't make too much noise._

I glance around apprehensively. By now, the survivors of the bloodbath will be out hunting. _And sitting here, doing nothing, isn't helping!_

I climb up the tree, branch by branch, getting scratched in the process. At last I reach a high branch which creaks slightly under my weight, so I stop. Hugging the trunk tightly with one arm, I push back the leaves and look out.

The forest is spread out around me. I can just see over the tops of the trees, and I squint, turning myself around. A faint glint of gold catches my eye briefly before it disappears. I look around again, trying to orientate myself, but all I can see is trees.

I climb back down the tree, disappointed. When I reach the ground, I realise that I've lost my sense of direction. Not that I really had an idea of which way I was going in the first place. _Stupid, _I tell myself, the panic of the morning beginning to resurface. I circle the tree again, and am relieved when I find my footprints.

I continue on, down the hill, now looking for water. I know that I can survive not getting food immediately, but water is a different matter.

The shadows begin to get longer as I move through the woods, walking rather than running. The ground slopes downwards, and I pick up my pace.

I grin as I step out onto the bank of a river – well, a creek, really. It burbles happily along, surrounded by reeds that wave in the slight wind.

I stoop down and wash my hands in the water, splashing some on my face in the process. I am about to drink when I remember what I was taught. The water could be – probably was – teeming with bacteria. Bacteria that were guaranteed to kill painfully.

The water bubbles past, taunting me.

I know what I need to do.

"Deran," I say, and my voice cracks. I cough, aware of how loud I sound. "Iodine."

I wait in silence, standing on the riverbank. Doubts fill my mind. Was she even watching? Did she hear? Did I really need that?

My thoughts are interrupted when a small capsule, attached to a parachute, come floating down through the trees. I catch it and eagerly unscrew it. Inside is a small bottle of iodine, and as I unscrew it I see that it has an eye-dropper in the lid.

"Thanks, Deran." I smile up at the sky, knowing that the cameras will show my face.

I grab the capsule and pull off the parachute, tucking it into a pocket in my pants. Kneeling down, I fill the capsule with water and add a few drops of iodine to it. I set the container down carefully – it isn't large, and I don't want to spill any of my precious water.

The sun begins to drop lower in the sky, and my hunger returns. While the iodine is doing its job, I walk along the riverbank, looking for sources of food. I find a few berry bushes, and after checking that the berries aren't poisonous, I begin to pick them. I eat all I can find – I don't have anywhere to store them, and I don't know when I'd eat next.

After about half an hour, I return to the capsule to drink. The water tastes faintly metallic, but hopefully it won't kill me.

The sun has almost set, and I know that I need to find shelter, or at least a place to sleep tonight. I briefly consider building a shelter on the ground, then dismiss that idea. It would be too easy for other Tributes to find – though I doubt that any would make it this far – and I have probably left it too late to build anything decent. I glance at the trees lining the river. Perhaps I can stay there – it won't be comfortable, or restful, but it might be safe.

I wrap the iodine bottle in the parachute and stuff it back into the empty container, before returning it to my pocket.

I walk back into the forest for a few minutes, distancing myself from the river. I pick a tree which looks to have solid branches, and begin to climb.

The sound of my boots scrabbling on the bark echoes through the forest. I clamber higher into the branches, stopping when the ground below is hard to see because of the foliage surrounding me. _Safe enough for tonight._ I lie on my front against the branch, wrapping my arms around it, sliding back until I rest against the trunk of the tree. I rest my cheek on the rough bark and tilt my head slightly. I can see the darkening sky through the gaps in the leaves, and I let my mind go blank.

A loud noise jerks me out of my reverie. The sky above me is lit up, and I sit up carefully, pushing the branches out of the way. The Capitol seal is projected above me, and I realise what time it is.

Images begin to flash up on the night sky; pictures of the Tributes that were killed today. I watch, making a list of the dead. The girl from 3, the boy from 4, both Tributes from 6, 7, and 9, the boy from 8, the girl from 10 – and my District partner, the boy from 5. I repeat the list to myself, trying to forget the names and focus on the numbers. _Eleven dead_. Nearly half of the Tributes gone, on only the first day.

The light fades from the sky and I return to my previous position, curled up against the tree branch. I make a tally of the Tributes that remain: All of the Careers, except for the boy from 4, Fire-girl and her Fire-boy, surprisingly enough, and both of the Tributes from 11 as well. I try to remember the rest, but my mind feels too tired to think.

_I'll make a list tomorrow_, I think drowsily, and slip off to sleep


	10. Arena : Day 2

When I wake, I forget where I am and almost fall out of the tree. I cling to the branch, heart racing, for a few moments before I move.

I climb stiffly down the tree, rubbing my eyes when I get to the bottom. Last night wasn't restful, and that put me at a disadvantage to the other Tributes. Though maybe not to some. I'm not sure if the cannon I heard in the night was real, or just the product of my dreams. I have a sinking feeling that it was real, the sound of a successful night of hunting from other Tributes.

So, eleven dead – maybe twelve. Half of the Tributes gone in less than twenty-four hours of the Games. At least the Gamemakers can't be accused of not having enough bloodshed.

I check that my iodine bottle is still in my pocket, and then head back to the river in the dawn light. The forest feels alive; the birds sing and fly from tree to tree overhead, and small animals dart for cover when I pass. I try to walk silently, with little success.

I reach the riverbank and peer around. I am more cautious now, slinking down to the river's edge in the middle of a clump of reeds, always alert. I fill up the container again, add iodine, and then settle down to wait. I crouch uncomfortably in the middle of the reeds, this time not berry-picking.

When the sun has fully risen, I drink the water and refill the container. I screw the cap on it and give the closed container a shake. Thankfully, the water doesn't leak out, so I put it in my pocket and slip back into the forest.

My stomach feels hollow and empty, but I ignore it. Breakfast could come later; now it is time to get back to the Cornucopia.

* * *

I stop for a rest when the sun is overhead. I sit down and lean against the base of a nearby tree, listening to the forest again. The day is warm, which is a relief after the chill of last night.

I'm not quite sure where I am in relation to the Cornucopia. I was trying to retrace the path I took yesterday, but to me one part of the forest looked the same as any other part. _Don't panic_, I tell myself for the umpteenth time, trying to forget that I only have half a container of water left. All I can do at the moment is keep going.

I pull myself to my feet again, and continue, my legs protesting. As the afternoon passes I grow more wary, moving from tree to tree, trying to conceal myself in the undergrowth as much as I could. There are eleven people waiting to kill me that could be in these woods. No sense taking chances.

As the light begins to fade, I realise that I will not reach the Cornucopia today. The Careers will probably start to hunt soon – night was traditionally their favourite time, or at least it had been in previous Games. I chew my lip in frustration. There is so much that I don't _know! _I feel vulnerable, alone in the woods with no knowledge of what any of the other Tributes are doing.

I push away the thoughts and begin to search for food in the undergrowth. I stumble across some berry bushes and after checking that the berries are edible, pick some and stuff them in my pockets. I remember my training – apparently _bark _can be eaten. I almost break my fingernails, but I gouge off a few pieces from a nearby tree. Combined with the sweet berries, it doesn't taste too bad – or perhaps it's because I'm too hungry to care. I leave one piece of bark, and begin a tally.

I scratch the numbers one to twelve on the bark using my fingernails, then begin to cross them off. One from 3, one from 4, one from 5, both from 6, 7, and 9, one from 8 and one from 10. It feels good, somehow, to have this record – it feels like I might be able to control some small part of these Games.

As night begins to fall, I slip the bark into my jacket pocket and gather a few fallen tree branches. I crawl underneath a tangle of bushes and arrange the branches over me. I'm prepared to risk sleeping on the ground in exchange for a more restful night and the extra warmth that the branches will hopefully afford.

I peer through a gap in the branches as the Capitol seal is broadcast into the sky. This night, there is only one picture – the girl from District 8. The cannon I heard in the night.

I pull out my bark record and put another stroke across the crude number 8.

Twelve down.

I pull my hood over my head and try to sleep.


	11. Arena : Day 3

It's dawn when I wake. I drink the remaining water from my container, and hope that I find another stream today – or better yet, I get to the Cornucopia. I don't think that I can survive for too long without any supplies. The berries that I've managed to find are hardly enough to keep me going, and I can only hope that the Careers – or whoever else has the stockpile of food – will be lax enough so that I can take something.

I continue through the forest as the light begins to brighten. The forest stretches on and on, seemingly endless, but sometime mid-morning I come across a stream. I crouch in the bushes on its bank and carefully refill my container with water. I don't remember a crossing a stream on the way from the Cornucopia on the first day – but then, the first few hours had blurred together in my memory somewhat.

The stream is shallow, and I quickly dart across it, the splashing of my boots lost in the sounds of the forest around me. I keep walking slowly, staying alert.

I spot a glint of gold through the trees in front of me. I force myself to wait, to listen, to watch. I can't afford to rush, not now.

I ease myself from cover to cover, moving at an agonisingly slow pace. Finally, I reach a clump of bushes on the edge of the clearing. The Cornucopia sits in the middle – still shimmering brightly in the sun, but empty.

I spot the Tributes at once – seven of them, lounging around their camp on the other side of the field. I mark them off in my head: Gold-girl, and her District 1 partner, then Knife-girl and _her _District 2 partner. The District 4 girl as well, so all the remaining Careers are there. Another boy, who I think is from 3, and, most surprisingly, the District 12 boy. Fire-boy. Without his Fire-girl.

It's an extremely large pack, given the number of remaining Tributes. I count off the remaining five. Myself, obviously. Fire-girl. The two 11s. One from 10 – boy or girl, I'm not sure.

Seeing them all, so close, is strange. They all look so different from how they were in the Capitol; no longer clean and polished, but rough and dirty. They still have the same deadly look about them, though – the Careers at least. I huddle down lower into the bushes, hoping that I'll be invisible in the gloom.

I peer back at the Career camp. They've pulled all of the supplies out of the Cornucopia, and piled them up. It's closer to me than it is to them – I'd be able to cover the distance to it in a few seconds. Just from looking at it, I can tell that they haven't bothered to sort it – I can see packs, crates and bags of food, and a glint of metal that could be a weapon.

As I watch, 3 straightens up abruptly and gestures to the rest of the pack. He's sitting a short way from the rest of the, surrounded by some kind of metal disks. I squint, trying to see them more clearly. I can't work out what they were – and, now that I think about it, I didn't see why 3 was there at all. Same with Fire-boy. I would have thought that they would be prey for the Careers, not allies.

The rest of the pack gathers around 3 in a loose semi-circle. 3 seems to be explaining something, flicking his hands about, pointing to the metal disks, then to the pile of supplies. I can't hear his words; the wind is blowing in the wrong direction.

Knife-girl's partner says something, a most likely a question. 3 hesitates for a moment, then stands up, picking up a disk. He walks over to one of the metal circles that we had come into the Arena on. The rest of the pack follows, Knife-girl muttering to her partner.

I carefully slip to another group of bushes, trying to get a better view of the circle, but it's useless. The pack crowds around, and I can't see anything. I don't want to move more, either – every motion, every sound I make increases the chance that they'll find me.

From what little I can see, 3 appears to be digging. Burying something? I look around at the other circles, and see that the ground around them is dug up as well, the dirt still piled up next to the holes. _Why?_ I wonder. The only useful thing there would be a passageway to the Launch Room, which would likely be sealed off, anyway, and... and the mines.

Mines. The metal disks. Of course! _Solaire, you idiot! _They had dug up the disabled mines, and 3 had re-enabled, primed them again. Or was trying to.

Mine-boy, I rename 3. Maybe he's making it more it more difficult for me to survive, but I still have some slight respect for him. I'm sure he knows that the Gamemakers won't be pleased with him.

My attention is caught by the Career pack as they move away from the circle. Mine-boy is still there, patting down the dirt, and then he too turns and leaves. I'm confused for a second. Are they just burying it and leaving it there, by the circle?

In response to a shout from Gold-girl, Mine-boy picks up some apples from the supply pile, and approaches the buried mine again. Aiming carefully, he tosses the apple, but it falls short. The Careers begin to jeer at him, before Fire-boy grabs another apple and throws it.

Fire-boy is much more accurate. The apple hits the recently packed-down earth with a dull thud. I watch as the earth _explodes _outwards, incinerating the apple and leaving a gaping hole where the mine used to be. Both Mine-boy and Fire-boy stagger backwards from the force of the blast.

I'm grateful that I didn't decide to jump over the mines at the beginning.

The rest of the Careers gather around Mine-boy and Fire-boy. They talk for a few seconds – would it kill them to come closer so that I could _hear? _– and then they seem to reach an agreement. I flinch slightly and shrink down as they walk towards the supplies. I know that if they see me, I'm dead.

The pack spreads out around the supply pile, each other equipped with a weapon – swords mostly. Mine-boy walks around them, drawing a line in the dirt around the mound and marking several other points closer to it. Using their weapons as crude shovels, they begin to dig.

They dig a trench around the outside, encircling the pile, then a few smaller holes closer to the pyramid. Mine-boy again marks out more spots between the trench and the pile – a safe path, I assume.

I leave my hiding place when the sun is high in the sky. My legs are cramped, and I walk slowly. The sounds of the digging cover my footsteps, but I only breathe easily when the clearing is out of my sight.

I find the stream again and sit down near it, in the cover of some bushes. The branches snag my hair, and I wince as I untangle myself. My hair is still tied back in the same ponytail that it was in on the first day – making myself look pretty isn't high on my list of priorities.

I wait by the stream for some time; I'm in no hurry to return to the clearing, but at last the sun starts to get lower and I pick myself up. The forest seems more familiar and easy to navigate now, and I retrace the path back to the Cornucopia.

When I reach the edge of the forest, I see that the trench is fully dug. The pack is busy, gathering some food from the pile, but their grimy hands are testament to the fact that they had abandoned their attempt at using swords as shovels. Mine-boy pulls some small, bright bags from the mound and lays them along a twisting path – the safe path.

I smile, relieved that my task will now be much easier.

Mine-boy returns to the rest of the pack, now gathering some distance away. The wind had shifted and I can hear parts of their conversation.

Mine boy is first. "– can put them all in place now – delay is longest I can get –"

Knife-girl flicks her hair back. "– _now_, I want to hunt soon, Cato."

Cato. I don't know which one that is.

The pack seems to have reached an agreement. Mine-boy steps over to his pile of mines, takes a few and returns to the inside holes. The pack crowds around as Mine-boy fiddles with the one of the disks. He places it gently in the hole, and then the pack shovels dirt on top of it.

This continues for all the holes, and I wait impatiently. It's so _close_, and my stomach feels hollow, but I can't leave, not without supplies.

Over the next few hours my body starts to cramp, and I gently stretch as much as I can while still staying hidden. Late in the afternoon, the Career packs starts to prepare to hunt again. They send Mine-boy to get food for them, from the now protected pile. The pack stands well back, clearly doubtful of Mine-boy's ability to safely navigate the path. I watch him as he moves deliberately across the ground, and I am certain that I can re-create his steps.

The Careers and Fire-boy head out to hunt, laughing and yelling, not even bothering to be subtle. Mine-boy is left behind, but he doesn't seem too unhappy with that.

I stare across the clearing towards him. He's set himself up at the entrance to the Cornucopia, tinkering with a small grey box, one of several lying on the ground near him. Every few minutes he looks up, and glances around the clearing, but he stays seated.

I take several deep breaths, preparing myself. This was my best chance. I go over my mental list again. Food, definitely. A backpack or some sort of bag would help too. A water bottle – the water in my container would hardly last me for a day. And a knife, or another weapon. I didn't want to take too much – to risk tipping off the Careers.

I leave my clump of bushes, moving back further into the forest, before circling around so the pyramid is between Mine-boy and me. I pause and listen. The now-familiar sounds of the forest are all I hear. I hope that none of the other Tributes are crazy – or desperate – enough to come this close to the Career's camp now. I stay still, at the edge of the forest, doubt filling my mind again. I can't see Mine-boy – what if he's circling the clearing? _The longer you wait, the more likely he is to find you, _I tell myself. _Just do it!_

I slip out of the trees, and quickly walk to the pyramid. My boots barely make a sound on the hard-packed dirt, but I don't dare run in case Mine-boy hears me. I scan the bottom of the pyramid, and find the starting point of the path – right on the edge, where I'll be able to be seen by Mine-boy.

_Please don't be watching_. I peek around the side of the pile. He's looking down. _Go! _I step on the slight depression that marks the safe spot and frantically search for the next one. _There!_ I hurriedly step over to it and breathe a quiet sigh of relief. I'm out of sight now, and so I work a bit more slowly, gradually making my way toward the pyramid. I keep alert, my ears strained for any sounds of the Careers returned, or Mine-boy coming for food.

I reach the base of the pyramid without any mishaps, but I don't allow myself to relax. I look up at all the supplies, piled without any order, and a small part of me wants to berate the Careers for their sloppy work.

I stretch out my hand and grab a backpack from the edge of the pile, gently easing it out. It's large, and heavier than I want it to be, but I can't afford to be picky now. I pull open the zipper – the bag is half-full, and I see rope, but I don't have time to investigate any more.

I turn to the open crates on the ground and begin to grab food from them, taking a few handfuls or packets from each one. I hardly notice what I'm taking, still vigilant for the sound of anyone approaching. When the bag is full I yank the zipper shut and glance back around at the pile. A single backpack, a few bits of food here and there – will they miss it? I doubt it. They'll probably blame Mine-boy for it, anyway, if they do notice.

I look up at the pile again, and a glint of metal catches my eye. A weapon. Something I need desperately. I glance around, and then carefully place my bag on the ground. The metal object, which I hope is a knife, is positioned halfway up the pile, nestled between two bags.

I begin my climb, balancing on a steel crate, and then resting my foot on another bag. The bag shifts precariously under me for a moment, but settles into place. I continue to climb, wincing every time my boots squeak as I clamber upwards.

I reach out my hand to grab the knife, but I hit another small bag on the way. I snatch it out of the air before it can tumble down to the bottom of the pyramid, and wait for a second as adrenaline surges through me. If the bag had fallen – I didn't really want to think about it. I knew the mines had been set off by light weights before.

I slide the strap of the small bag around my wrist, and reach for the knife again, sliding it out as quickly as I could. I climb clumsily back down to the ground, still holding the knife in one hand. Hoisting the backpack onto my backing, I stick the knife through my belt, and give the pile one last glance. I retrace my steps away from the pyramid, now identifying the small patches of scuffed dirt that indicate safe spots.

I stop before I reach the last spot, again looking around the pile at Mine-boy. He still appears to be engrossed in whatever he was doing, so I dart out to the last spot and then slip back behind the cover of the pile, on the other side of the mines.

A slight noise from the other side of the pyramids sends me running to the edge of the forest. _Did he see me?_ I slide into the forest and hide myself behind a tree, looking back to see if I'm being pursued.

There's nothing. He hasn't noticed my theft.

Adrenaline courses through me again. I've done it – I've stolen supplies from underneath the Careers' noses! Or their guard's, at least. I haven't felt this exhilarated since – _No, _I stop myself sharply. I can't afford to be distracted now. I slip the smaller bag off my wrist and into the side pocket of the pack as quietly as possible.

I make my way away from the clearing, crossing the steam and heading uphill, walking slower now that I have the burden of the backpack. All I care about now is distancing myself from the Careers. The light begins to fade and I stumble over a root, nearly falling over. _Just stop, Solaire. _

I shrug off my pack and pull out one of the food packets, before once more crawling between some bushes. I drag the pack in behind me, and manage to make a small depression in the ground. I can still see some parts of the sky through the branches, but I know that there won't be any images up there tonight.

The food packet has beef jerky in it, and I chew on it as I think. The air gets colder and I pull the bag on top of me. I listen to the night noises of the forest and touch the handle of the knife I stole, still tucked in my belt.

_Twelve_. Twelve of us still alive, still out there somewhere. The feel of the knife in my hand is comforting, and for the first time in these Games I feel that I might make it to the end.

I stuff the food wrapper back into the top of the pack and curl up underneath it, trying to stay warm. I feel a stab of annoyance at myself for not looking at the contents of the pack earlier – there could be a sleeping bag or extra clothes in there. But I can't look through it now. _Just sleep, Solaire, _I tell myself, and eventually I do.


	12. Arena : Day 4

The sound of boots crashing through the undergrowth wakes me. My eyes flick open, and I stare into the pre-dawn darkness, not daring to move my head. The noise gets closer and I begin to hear the sounds of voices as well. _The Careers._

My hand slides down to grasp the handle of my knife. _Calm, Solaire, _I think to myself, but it's hard to stay calm when I see the Career pack passing by, only a few hundred metres from me. I twist around in the confined space, and freeze when my pack slips to the ground with a muffled thump.

I hold my breath and duck my head down. I know from experience how much my pale skin stands out in the dark. _Please don't see me, _I think again, hoping that the Careers hadn't heard me over the noise that they were making.

Fortunately, they keep moving, but I wait until dawn before crawling out from under the bushes. I stand up and stretch, brushing dirt off of my clothes, before settling down to look through my pack.

I unzip the small bag first. Inside there's a roll of bandages and a tube of lotion. There's no label on it, so I assume it's just a general sort of antiseptic.

I put the small bag aside and dig through the larger pack. The food that I had taken yesterday is slightly squished, but I carefully stack it up on the ground next to me. I estimate that it's enough to last me for a few days, if I find berries as well.

There's rope in the bag as well, and I untie it and measure it out – it's only about ten metres long, but it seems strong. I tie it up again, my fingers clumsy in the cold air.

Underneath the rope there's a sleeping bag. I berate myself again for not looking through the bag earlier – last night could have been much more comfortable.

My pack is empty now, so I shove all of my supplies back into it. It's mid-morning and getting warmer. Something doesn't seem quite right, but I can't work out what it is. I pull the pack onto my back, and begin the trek back to the Cornucopia.

I'm around halfway there when I realise what's different. _The birds. _Every day here, I've been surrounded by their noises – but now things have changed. I stop walking and listen intently. The birds are louder, more forceful, screeching as they fly through the trees.

_Why?_ I turn in a circle, trying to find a reason for their behaviour. There's nothing. It's not until I take a deep breath that I realise the problem.

_Smoke_.

I look around more frantically now. The smell is faint, but it's enough to get me worried. The forest is my shelter, my safe place – fire could destroy it.

I can't see any flames, so I continue on towards the Cornucopia. As I move through the forest, the scent fades, but I keep glancing back, uneasy. I doubt that the fire was simply the product of a Tribute – lighting a fire in the Arena was tantamount to a death sentence, especially when only the twelve of us remain.

I reach the clearing at around noon and settle into a stand of bushes near the edge. I gently slide off my pack and watch the Careers. They're resting again, with Knife-girl doing sentry duty.

The afternoon continues on slowly as I wait for another opportunity to raid their supplies. I finish off the water in my container, and sneak back to the stream to refill it. The lake at the side of the clearing glitters at me temptingly, but it's too open for my taste.

At last, the rest of the pack begins to wake up and they prepare for another night of hunting. They seem to have settled into a routine of sorts – hunting at night, sleeping during the day. Mine-boy is left behind as the others head off, going into the forest only a few hundred metres from me.

I duck down again as they move through the trees. I wonder vaguely what the Gamemakers will show on television. It hasn't bothered me much, these past few days, not with the bloodshed of the first day. But now the audiences will want more – and the Gamemakers will try to give it to them.

I peer through the bushes. Mine-boy has retreated to the Cornucopia. I wait a few minutes for him to settle - and to build up the tension, I suppose. That's part of the plan, in a roundabout kind of way. It's a fine line that I'm trying to walk; balancing between not being noticed by the other Tributes, and not being so boring to watch that the Gamemakers _force _me to be interesting.

I judge that enough time has passed, so I run to the pile, and quickly retrace my steps along the safe path. I ignore the piles of packs and equipment above me, choosing instead to fill my pockets with food. When I can't stuff anything else into them, I finally let myself look at the rest of the pile. I begin to unzip some of the lower bags, searching for a water bottle.

The first few yield nothing, and I begin to work faster. _Come on!_ My fingers slip on the zipper tag as I struggle to close it. I've been here too long, I know, but something is urging me on. _Just one more bag, there'll be something there._

I'm on my eighth bag when I hear footsteps. I stop and listen, trying to work out where they're coming from. _Thud, thud, thud. _My breathing gets faster – they're on the other side of the pile.

I pull my hand out of the bag and spin around, trying to find the start of the path. The footsteps get closer and I realise I'm not going to make it.

I dart back towards the pile and crouch down, hidden by a crate. I squeeze myself backwards, pulling the hood over my face. The food in my pocket crunches as I move, so I hold still. I can see a small strip of forest in front of me, in the gap between the crate and supplies.

The footsteps are even louder now, but there's no yell of shock or surprise yet. I huddle down even further, trying to breathe silently. My hand slips down to the handle of my knife again. I briefly imagine the feeling of actually using it, and shudder.

The footsteps stop.

I bite my lip hard, forcing myself not to look. I know that he – Mine-boy – hasn't crossed the mines yet. His footsteps have been too even for that – crossing the safe path needs delicate footwork. Even so, peering out from behind the crate isn't a good idea.

Everything is silent; Mine-boy hasn't moved. I stare straight ahead, counting the seconds. The urge to look is growing stronger. _What is he doing?_

I flick my gaze over the supply pile again and feel a jolt of horror. The bag that I'd been searching through is there, the zip still undone. The front of it gapes open and to me it seems glaringly obvious, a clear-cut sign of an intruder.

I feel the sudden, unexpected urge to laugh. All this, because I wanted a water bottle! The thought seems so absurd – I'm trapped here, in danger of being found, and quite possibly being killed, all because I wanted something that would be only slightly better than what I already had!

The footsteps start again.

I'm still on edge as they continue, circling around the pile. At last Mine-boy steps into my field of vision, and I shrink back into the shadows. He's watching the forest, and carrying a spear with him.

He doesn't look back at the pile, and I wait while his footsteps fade as he returns to the Cornucopia. I pull myself up and return to the bag, zipping it back up as quietly as possible.

I'm not willing to risk Mine-boy coming along again, so I dart back along the safe path, and then back into the forest. It takes me a while to find my pack, but when I do I pull it onto my back and head deeper into the forest.

It's late afternoon at this point, and I begin to think about tonight. I have a sleeping bag now, which is a definite bonus, but I don't want to sleep on the ground again. The Careers were only a short way away from me this morning – what's to say that they won't be closer tomorrow?

As the sun gets lower, I stop by a stand of trees. If I can't sleep on the ground, then my only other real option is to sleep _off _the ground. I pull my sleeping bag and my rope out of the pack – I know now that waking up in a tree wasn't a great experience, but I'm sure that waking up when falling _out _of a tree would be decidedly less pleasant. I put most of the food that I had taken today into my pack, keeping only a few packets for tonight.

I move my pack to underneath a bush at the base of the tree and begin to climb. Heights have never been a problem for me, but these trees are so different to the rigid metal constructs back at home.

I push away the memories once more as I focus on climbing. The sleeping bag bumps against my back when I move, sometimes threatening to unbalance me. At last I reach a high branch and straddle it, leaning against the trunk.

I munch on my food while trying to figure out the best way to sleep. As the sun sets, I struggle into my sleeping bag and lie down on the branch. I tie the rope around me as best I can, fumbling with the knot in the fading light.

I huddle awkwardly in my sleeping bag, kept in place by the rope. The moonlight turns the forest silver, and if I half-close my eyes I can pretend I'm back home, up on the rooftops with only Aden and Lecta and the moonlight glinting off the solar panels.

I'm too tired to fight the flood of memories that invade my head. My mind is filled with images from my past – I keep thinking that it was months ago, though it's barely been two weeks since the Reaping. But it still seems so distant, so far removed from my situation here.

Deran's voice fills my head again – the same warning that she had given me on the train. _It won't be the same. It'll never be the same again._ One way or another, my moonlit nights with Aden and Lecta are gone forever.

I still cling to the memories as I fall asleep, content to ignore reality for this one night.


	13. Arena : Day 5

I am woken by the sound of cannons. As I clutch the branch, still half-asleep, I struggle to orient myself. Over the startled squawks of birds I think I can hear yelling in the distance, but it quickly fades.

The knot presents some difficulty to me, and it's a few minutes before I climb clumsily down to the ground. I stretch, trying to work the stiffness out of my body, before retrieving my bag. Around me, the forest is quiet again.

I eat a small breakfast as the sun begins to rise. I'm itching to go, to find out if the Careers had anything to do with the cannons, but there's no point in me rushing blindly through the forest, especially not if the Careers are around.

The sun's rays peek through the forest canopy as I once again head for the Cornucopia. It feels familiar, routine, almost _safe _now – which is definitely not a good thing. _It's a fight to the death, _I remind myself harshly, _don't let your guard down._

The Cornucopia shines brightly in the morning light, and I have to squint to see the figures near it. I creep around the side of the clearing to get a better view.

Mine-boy is still there, and Knife-girl and her partner, but the girl from District 4 is missing. Fire-boy isn't there, and Gold-girl is gone, too, though her partner is still there.

Everyone except for Mine-boy is unconscious, sprawled out on the grass in the middle of the clearing.

I don't think that they're just _sleeping, _either – even from the edge of the forest I can see the red sores that cover their exposed skin.

I know what Deran would tell me, what Aden and Lecta would say to me, if they were here. I know the logical thing to do.

_Just kill them._ As simple as that.

Mine-boy looks exhausted – he'll have to sleep sometime soon. They'll be vulnerable, if only for a few hours. And there had been the cannons this morning...

I hover uncertainly at the edge of the clearing. How many cannons had there been? At least one. Maybe two. But three?

And if the remaining members of the Career pack aren't dead, where are they?

The sun rises higher in the sky as I deliberate, hidden in the shadows of the forest. As much as I hate to admit it, having the Careers alive, at least for a while longer, would be _useful._

And I'm scared.

Scared of killing people who wouldn't hesitate to kill me.

I pull out my bark record. Twelve dead, possibly more. It still doesn't seem _real_.

I glance again at the helpless Careers.

It would be easy, theoretically. Just wait until Mine-boy is asleep, kill him first, then finish off the Careers. A third of the remaining Tributes gone. It wouldn't be terribly _exciting_, from the Capitol's point of view, but I might even get a few sponsors from it.

It would play havoc with the betting, at least.

I look down at my knife and try to imagine stabbing someone with it.

_Stop it, Solaire,_ I think angrily.

I slide off my backpack and curl up under the cover of a stand of bushes. If I'm going to think, I might as well be comfortable.

The hours pass as I consider my situation. Killing the Careers would mean less Tributes, less danger, more supplies for me, and possible sponsors. But it would also mean _killing_ the Careers.

It's around noon when I notice Mine-boy is asleep. I slide out from the cover of the clearing to the supply pile. I continue my search from yesterday, looking through the packs for a water bottle. I take the first one I find, a medium-sized metal bottle, and fill my pockets with food packets. The food feels unnecessary, excessive, but I don't know how many more times I will be able to return here. Better safe than sorry, after all.

The shade is cool and welcoming after the midday heat. I twist around awkwardly under the bushes, trying to repack my bag with a minimum of noise. Once everything is packed to my satisfaction, I return to thinking.

I know that I really reached a decision hours ago. I can't kill them. Not when they're like this, defenceless and unconscious.

And maybe the rest of the pack is lurking around as well. _A weak excuse, _my inner voice snaps, and I'm prepared to admit to that.

I retreat further into the forest again as the afternoon wears on. There's nothing more for me to do at the Cornucopia – I've got food enough for at least four days, and my backpack is getting heavier. As the sun begins to set I find another suitable tree, and prepare for sleep. The rough bark scratches my hands, but it's a small price to pay for a safety.

With nightfall comes the Capitol seal, and the announcement of the deaths. I stare up at the sky – two faces are projected there. The District 1 girl, and the District 4 girl as well.

I carefully pull out my bark record and, using the silvery moonlight to see, add two more scratches.

There are ten of us left now.

* * *

**A/N: Happy one year, one month, and one day anniversary!**

**Yeah, so this has dragged out ****_way _****longer than I expected.**

**Apologies for the hiatus, I ****_am _****going to update ****_at least _****once a week from now on.**

**Anyway, thank you again for reading and reviewing :D**


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